


Turkey and Family History

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Feels, pretty fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: This fic was written in response to this prompt: Modern AU where the kids find out that Mommy used to date Uncle Brandon (who’s alive) and Arya immediately takes a dislike to him, and Ned and/or Cat have to talk her down.Brandon Stark arrives to Thanksgiving dinner and discover that niece who thought he was pretty awesome on Halloween now seems to hate his guts. And nobody knows why.
Relationships: Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, parent child relationships - Relationship
Comments: 34
Kudos: 141





	Turkey and Family History

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Sansa squealed as she opened the door in the piercing high-pitched tone specific to excited little girls that Brandon Stark was quite certain could shatter glass. He managed not to grimace at the sound and wrapped his arms around his niece in a bear hug which successfully caused the shrieking to dissolve into girlish giggles that were far more tolerable to the ear.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, Niece Number One!” he replied before releasing her. She truly was a sweet child, and she’d be heartbreaker in a few years just like her mother. Poor Ned would have his hands full. “You’ve gotten taller and prettier since the last time I saw you.”

“That was just at Halloween, Uncle Brandon!” Sansa giggled. “We trick-or-treated at your work!”

“Oh, I remember very well, princess,” Brandon smiled. Stark Enterprises dedicated an afternoon in late October to allowing the costumed offspring of their employees roam the hallways from office to office begging for candy. That had been Catelyn’s bright idea a few years back—she was always going on about company morale and maintaining a family-friendly workplace. Initially, Brandon hadn’t been much in favor of it. It was loud and chaotic, and while he adored his nieces and nephews, he enjoyed them best in small doses and wasn’t a fan of spending significant time with other people’s children at all. However, Cat had been correct in her assertion that the event would be a tremendous hit with the parents of all those noisy little people and that the three hours of productive work time lost to it would be more than offset by the increased productivity of happy, appreciative employees. Hell, he’d even tolerated Sansa’s little sister (who dressed up as a knight, of all things) commandeering his services as her noble steed. He’d put her on his back and galloped through the halls as she attempted to whack at people with a plastic sword. And if Ned’s accusation that he’d intentionally allowed her to get close enough for that sword to actually connect with a couple people who’d irritated him lately, Brandon wasn’t going to admit it.

The recollection of his eight year old hellion of a niece bopping Roose Bolton right in the bum with her weapon caused Brandon to grin as he asked her ten-year old sister, “Where are the rest of the monsters, Sansa?”

She smiled. “Rickon’s taking a nap, Daddy’s helping Bran ride his bike, Arya’s in the kitchen trying to sneak turkey, and Robb and Jon are . . . somewhere.”

“So Lyanna and Jon beat me here, huh?”

Sansa nodded. “Aunt Lya came over early to help Mom.”

Brandon snorted at that. The idea that his little sister could provide any sort of useful assistance to Catelyn in a kitchen was ludicrous. Cat was the best cook he’d ever known, including his own mother, and Lya could sort of operate a microwave. She was likely aiding Arya in her attempts at food theft rather than participating in actual food preparation.

“Hey! Uncle Brandon’s here!” Robb’s shout as he and Jon appeared from the hallway was far louder than Sansa’s greeting squeal had been, but not nearly as high pitched so Brandon found it much easier on his ears.

“Hey, boys!” He said, grabbing the two of them into one armed hugs as they ran over to him. “Are you behaving?”

Before they could answer, his sister-in-law appeared from the kitchen, wearing a holiday apron with her long, red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. “Robb Stark,” she said in that voice that all mothers have—where the volume is actually quieter than normal but a kid knows he’s being yelled at all the same. “If you wake Rickon with your shouting before it’s time for him to get up, you will be in charge of him the rest of the day.” Then she looked up at him and smiled. “Hello, Brandon. Sorry I didn’t hear you come in, but it seems you’ve had quite a welcoming committee all the same.”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “When’s the wild thing supposed to get up from his nap?”

Catelyn sighed. “I’d love for him to last another hour because he’ll be well rested and it’ll be nearly time to eat at that point. But realistically, I’m praying for another forty minutes.”

“I can take this lot outside for a bit if you’d like,” he offered.

“Will throw the football?” Jon asked enthusiastically. 

Robb, rightfully terrified by the prospect of having to amuse a tired, grumpy Rickon, spoke much more quietly. “Or we could shoot hoops, if you like?”

He looked at Sansa who didn’t appear thrilled with either suggestion, but he knew she enjoyed being outdoors as much as all Starks even if she wasn’t as crazy about sports as the rest of them. “Go get the turkey bandit, Sans—and your aunt, while you’re at it, and we’ll come up with something fun for everyone.”

Sansa bounded into the kitchen, and the two boys went to grab their coats.

“Brandon, you’ve barely come in. You don’t have to go right back out, even if you are their favorite outdoor toy,” Catelyn said laughing.

“I don’t mind, Cat. I assure you I have entirely selfish motives. The sooner I get all of them out of your hair, the sooner you have that heavenly meal ready for me to eat.”

“She isn’t cooking it for you. It’s for us.” His younger niece stood glaring up at him with her arms crossed.

“Arya! What’s the matter with you?” Catelyn chided her. “Apologize to your uncle now.”

Brandon couldn’t fathom what he’d done to earn the child’s ire, but the stubborn set of her jaw indicated that no apology was coming any time soon, and he chose to diffuse the situation before mother and daughter ended up in a row that would put a damper on the day’s festivities and his favorite meal of the year. “It’s all right, kid,” he said with a grin. “Your mother’s cooking makes me greedy, too. And for what it’s worth, I know she cooks for all of you, but I’m glad she makes enough for extras to show up and eat. Right, Lya?” He raised his voice slightly in the direction of his sister and older niece who had now come from the kitchen as well, and made a silent request with his eyes for Lyanna to simply go along with him.

“Uh . . . yeah,” Lyanna said without too much hesitation. She glanced at Arya’s angry face and then back at him with a shrug. “Go get your coats, girls,” she said to her nieces. “And tell Jon to grab mine.”

Arya still stared at him for a moment, but then let Sansa lead her away.

“What did you do to her?” Lyanna accused him under her breath. “She was happy as a lark two minutes ago!”

“Nothing!” Brandon insisted. “Ask Cat.” He shook his head. “Last time I saw the little wolf, I was her favorite human—or favorite fake horse anyway!”

“She’s been off about something for the past week or so,” Catelyn said, frowning slightly. “But she won’t talk about it, and the kids swear they don’t know what’s bothering her. I can’t imagine why she jumped on you, though, Brandon. Did something happen at the Halloween event that upset her?”

“No! Not that I know of. I swear, Cat. The last thing she did was tell me I’m the greatest warhorse ever. I can’t . . .”

“We’re ready, Uncle Brandon!” Robb interrupted. “Here, Mom,” Jon said almost at the same time, handing Lyanna her coat.

All four kids stood there, dressed for the outdoors, but Arya was looking stubbornly at the floor. 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay in and help you, Cat?” Lyanna asked.

“Oh, no, Lyanna. Go and enjoy yourself. You’ve been a big help already, and there’s hardly anything left to do. Honestly, knowing that you’re out there supervising _this_ overgrown child,” she elbowed Brandon with a grin, “will put my mind at ease.”

Brandon grinned at her, giving her a wink that Lyanna couldn’t see because he had no doubt sister-in-law was beyond grateful that he was removing both the children _and_ Lyanna from the vicinity of her kitchen for awhile. The way she bit her lip to hide a smile at his wink confirmed his suspicion.

“You can always holler at us if you do need help, Cat,” he said. “Here’s a kiss for the hardworking cook!” He leaned in to give her peck on the cheek only to find an eight year old girl who apparently could move like lightning standing between them.

“My dad will be back any minute. He can help Mom. We should go outside now.”

Catelyn looked at him helplessly, and Lyanna shrugged, but Brandon simply sighed and said, “You heard her, troops. Outside we go!” He then led his sister, nephews, and nieces to the front door, wondering why on earth his niece had suddenly decided he wasn’t welcome.

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

Ned Stark’s legs were sore from running up and down the long, flat drive alongside Bran’s bicycle. This task was more physically tasking thirty-seven than it had been in his late twenties when he’d taught Robb to ride. He prayed he’d still have the energy to keep up with Rickon when his turn came. The expression of pure joy on Bran’s face when he managed to go the length of the drive and turn in a wide arc to come back all on his own had been worth the inevitable aches he’d have tomorrow.

Bran hadn’t wanted to stop riding once he’d actually succeeded, of course, but Ned had finally managed to convince him that Thanksgiving dinner was an excellent reason to head back to the house. He’d felt guilty enough leaving Catelyn with all the rest of the kids and the dinner to prepare, but she’d been the one to remind him he’d promised Bran they’d have him completely off the training wheels by Thanksgiving only to work so many late hours the past two weeks that he’d barely seen any of the children, much less given any bike-riding lessons. Cat knew how crazy things had been at Stark. She worked there, too, after all, but she had made it clear that he was now off work for the holiday and that his first priority was to keep his promise to Bran. 

As Bran ran into the house, shouting excitedly for his mother, Ned prayed that Rickon was already awake. Entering the house a good deal more slowly than his son, he was met by his sister who promptly deposited his two and a half year old son in his arms. His already aching muscles did not thank her for that.

“Daddy!” Rickon exclaimed, obviously pleased to see him. “Play with me!”

He did have a big grin on his face which meant that he had at least gotten a good nap in. A tired Rickon was never a grinning Rickon. “Hold on a minute, baby boy. Daddy just got in this house.” He looked at Lyanna who looked entirely too amused. “Where is everyone?”

“Sansa and Arya are setting the table, and Jon and Robb are supposedly watching him.” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “Cat’s in the kitchen, of course, and she just sent Brandon out to bring in more firewood. Said the temperatures supposed to start dropping pretty quickly over the next few hours and she wants a good fire in the fireplace.”

“Of course, she does,” Ned said fondly. “She loves fires.”

“She hates cold,” Lyanna laughed. “And yet she married you. Go figure.”

Ned pulled a face at her.

“I take it Bran is successfully riding on two wheels, given the fact that he practically pole vaulted the sofa to get to the kitchen and see Catelyn?”

“He’s doing great. He was a bit more hesitant to get started than the others, but I swear he picked it up more quickly once he put his mind to it. Ow! That’s my hair, Rickon. Don’t pull it.” He extracted his son’s hand from his hair and set him down, watching him immediately take off running toward the kitchen. “I’ve got to grab him,” he sighed. “Walk with me. Have the kids been behaving themselves?”

“Brandon and I took them all outside until just a bit ago to give Cat a break. If cooking a ridiculously lavish meal for ten people can even be considered a break. So they’ve worked up an appetite, that’s for sure.”

“Football?” Ned laughed.

“Well, Brandon and the boys threw the football around. Played basketball, too, I think. I took the girls on a walk down toward the lake.”

“Arya didn’t play ball?” Ned asked, surprised. 

Lyanna shook her head. “She absolutely refused to play. So I suggested a walk, and she and Sansa both agreed to it.”

“That’s not like her. She loves football and basketball.”

“I don’t think it was the games she was avoiding, Ned. It seems that . . .”

“Ned! Please come get this child!” Catelyn called from the kitchen, a small bit of frustration audible in her voice.

He and Lyanna walked more quickly into the kitchen to find Bran regaling his mother with tales of his prowess on a bicycle as she attempted to carry various dishes around with a toddler clinging to her leg.

“Come here, Rick,” Ned said. “Let’s find the big boys.” Catelyn smiled at him, and he kissed her briefly as he scooped his youngest son back up into his arms. “And no hair pulling,” he admonished the child before kissing the top of his curly auburn head.

“Ha!” Catelyn laughed. “You should try being around him with my hair at the moment. I’ve taken to putting him in his old playpen for a few moments timeout every time he pulls it, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him.” She gave him a rather tired smile. “I’m afraid this one might be as stubborn as Arya.”

“Not possible,” Ned replied immediately, fervently hoping he was right about that.

“Bran told me he can ride up and down the lane now, and even make the turns without you holding on,” Catelyn said brightly.

“He can. He’s a very fast learner. You’d have been proud of him.”

“I’m always proud of Bran,” she smiled, and then turned to the little boy who was currently glowing in the light of his accomplishment and their praise. “Now, run along and tell your brother and Jon that you’ll be racing them on bikes by summer. And tell everyone to start getting washed up. I’m ready to put the food out.”

“Yes!” Bran shouted, jumping up to spread the word.

“I guess I won’t saddle Robb and Jon with this guy, then,” Ned said. 

“Here,” Lyanna said. “Give him back to me. I’ll make sure his hands are as clean as they ever get, and then threaten Jon and Robb with bodily harm to keep him clean once they’ve cleaned up themselves. You get cleaned up yourself, Ned, and tell Brandon to do the same. Between cavorting with our boys and hauling wood around, I guarantee he’s a mess.”

Everyone cleaned up well enough to meet Catelyn’s dinner hygiene standards with fairly minimal fuss which pleasantly surprised Ned. When he carried the large platter with the turkey to the large dining room table, he was also pleasantly surprised by how elegant the table looked as Cat had told him she’d let the girls do it almost entirely by themselves this year. 

“Girls!” he exclaimed, as he set the turkey platter down. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful table.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Sansa said, running to give him a hug. He loved her exuberant hugs. Sansa had always had her mother’s charm and impeccable manners, and at ten it already seemed she was growing up much too quickly for his liking, and the way she would jump to hug him as quickly and tightly as her younger sister reassured him she was still his little girl.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking up a small folded piece of construction paper by one of the plates. “Aunt Lya,” he read.

“Oh!” Sansa exclaimed. “Those are name cards. They were Arya’s idea. Can you believe that? She asked how we could make sure everybody sat where they were supposed to.”

“Where they’re supposed to?” Ned laughed. “Sansa we only eat at this table maybe five times a year, tops. We don’t really have assigned seats.”

“Well, we should,” his daughter insisted. “Like at Uncle Edmure’s wedding last summer when all our names were on little cards, remember? Thanksgiving is celebration just like a wedding is, isn’t it? So I told Arya we could make little cards, and she didn’t even complain about having to write neatly.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Where is my card?”

“At the head of the table, of course!” Sansa said, rolling her eyes. And Mother is . . .” She frowned picking up the little card at the opposite end of the table. “Arya!” she yelled, walking out of the dining room as if she’d forgotten Ned was there.

“What?” he heard Arya reply testily.

“Why did you put Jon’s card at Mother’s place?”

“Because Mom should sit by Dad! Duh!”

“Arya!”

“Mom always sits by Dad, Sansa.”

“At the kitchen table! Thanksgiving is special, Arya.”

“And everyone should sit by their most special people. Which means Mom should sit by Dad because they’re _married_. And Jon can sit down here by Uncle Brandon.”

“But . . .”

The girls’ entirely nonsensical argument continued to get louder and Catelyn appeared from the kitchen with two serving dishes in her hands and an angry expression on her face. “What is the matter with the two of you?” she hissed, almost under her breath. “Can you not keep from fighting even on Thanksgiving? If you cannot behave better than this, I’ll give you your plates in the kitchen, and you won’t even get to enjoy the table you’ve decorated so beautifully.”

Arya just looked down at the floor and said nothing, but Sansa attempted to plead her case. “She’s moving the name cards, Mom! She knows you’re supposed to sit opposite Dad, and she switched you and Jon! Why would Jon sit at the end of the table? It makes no sense, and . . .”

“Enough, Sansa,” Catelyn sighed. “I could care less where I sit, but I’m quite certain Jon will want to sit by Robb. If these place cards are causing the two of you to fight, I’ll simply remove all of them.”

“I think you should sit by Dad, not by Uncle Brandon,” Arya mumbled under her breath. “That’s all.”

Catelyn regarded her for a moment. “Very well, Arya,” she said softly. “It’s kind of you to realize I enjoy sitting with your father. And Sansa, you’re correct that husbands and wives often sit at opposite ends of the table for formal occasions, but it is just family today, and if I sit close to your father, he can help me manage Rickon if he acts out. So . . . how about . . .” She began to move around the table. “We’ll keep your father at the head and me where you have me beside him. Then put Rickon on my other side so I can help him with dinner. Put Lyanna and Brandon on your father’s other side, and then we won’t bore any of you with grown up conversation. Put Robb at the other end because he’s the oldest of you children, and make sure Jon’s beside him, and put the two of you and Bran in the other three chairs. Will that make everyone happy?”

Sansa huffed a bit, but nodded. Arya mumbled under her breath, but then nodded as well when Catelyn said her name sharply.

Catelyn gave them her ‘This is settled then’ look and went back into the kitchen. Ned followed her. 

“Do you know have any idea what that was all about?” he asked her.

She sighed. “Not really. I only know that for whatever reason, Arya seems to be furious with your brother.”

“Brandon? Arya loves Brandon! He lets her get away with murder—hell, when we so foolishly allowed her be in his company while brandishing a sword, I fear he was actually encouraging her to commit murder!”

“A toy sword, Ned,” Catelyn said wearily. “And don’t say you didn’t think it was hilarious when she whacked Roose with it because I know that you enjoyed it just as much as I did.” She smiled at him. “Even if we both know it was terribly inappropriate for Brandon to encourage it.”

He smiled back. “You know me too well. But still. Arya thinks Brandon hung the moon over every time encourages her to . . . indulge her wilder notions. I can’t imagine her getting seriously angry with him over anything.”

“Did you hear what she muttered under her breath just then?”

“I didn’t understand it, no. It was too quiet. Although it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that you understood it.” Catelyn didn’t miss much when it came to the kids.

“She said Brandon should have his plate in the kitchen.”

Ned couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud. “Something has got her bothered, hasn’t it?” 

Catelyn frowned at him. “It isn’t funny, Ned. She was terribly rude to him earlier. And I swear I thought she was going to hit him when he did his annual flattery routine for my cooking offering up help and a kiss for the cook.”

“Well, it is an annoyingly corny routine,” Ned pointed out. When Catelyn’s frown deepened, he hurriedly added, “But hardly deserving of violence.” He kissed the frown creases between her brows. “Let’s call everyone to dinner, enjoy your wonderful meal which deserves all the flattery from my brother and everyone else, and see if we can sort out what’s bothering Arya afterward.”

_________________________________________________________________________________ 

Dinner was delightful. Catelyn was honest enough to admit to herself that the food was delicious. She’d worried about the turkey just as she did every year, but it was perfectly cooked and not dry at all. The dumplings were the perfect consistency and well-seasoned, and the dressing had just the right amount of sage. Rickon seemed to get a kick out of sitting at the dining room table and was remarkably content to remain in his own chair throughout the meal. He also ate very well. Catelyn had spent as much time breaking up food to put on his plate as eating her own meal. Robb had held court at the kids’ end of the table, and Jon, Sansa, and Bran had all laughed and enjoyed themselves tremendously as they ate. Arya had been uncharacteristically quiet, and she looked toward her uncle with unwarranted hostility on more than one occasion, but she didn’t say anything rude to him. She didn’t speak to him at all, actually.

Brandon had been uncomfortably aware of Arya’s hateful looks, and Catelyn felt terrible for him. She, Ned, and Lyanna kept up conversation on the adult end of the table, and Brandon did smile and laugh and talk with them, but he was quieter than usual as well, and she knew Arya’s inexplicable behavior bothered him.

They all offered up a toast to Benjen who couldn’t get leave for Thanksgiving but hopefully would come home for at least a few days over Christmas, and Ned, Brandon, and Lyanna speculated hilariously over how Edmure must be enjoying his first Thanksgiving with his abominable in-laws. Catelyn felt a bit guilty for laughing at their comments, but she couldn’t help it. 

Finally, everyone’s bellies were full. Ned raised a glass to toast her for cooking the feast as he always did and gallantly declared that the men would do the cleaning as he always did. He surprised the older two boys, however, by announcing that since they were now thirteen, they were men enough to help with the cleaning, especially since Sansa and Arya had done the table decorating. Robb made the mistake of muttering something about how the girls got the easy task under his breath which earned him a glare from his father and prompted him to jump up from his seat and begin clearing plates immediately. Jon, ever loyal, rose to do the same.

Brandon smiled at Ned and said, “Wow, looks like we may get away with much less cleaning this year.”

Ned laughed, but then said, “I can’t leave them to wash Cat’s mother’s good china unsupervised. They aren’t the ones who’ll be murdered if they break something.”

“Ha. Ha,” Catelyn said. 

Ned rose from his seat and took her hand. “Every year I tell you that you’ve outdone yourself. But every year, it’s true. How in God’s name did I manage to wed the most beautiful woman in the world only to discover she’s also the greatest cook?”

He bent to kiss her on the lips. “And the best kisser,” he added when he stood back up, waggling his eyebrows at her and prompting groans from Robb and Jon. 

“That, dear brother, is a mystery for the ages,” Brandon said, rising from his own seat and coming around the table to stand on her other side. “She’s definitely out of your league, and you are one lucky bastard.” He grinned at Ned and then her. “A kiss for the cook and my favorite sister-in-law.”

Brandon pressed a quick peck to her cheek as she laughingly began to protest that she was his only sister-in-law when Arya stood up and shouted, “Stop it!”

Stunned, everyone stared at the little girl who was glaring at Brandon with murder in her eyes. “Don’t you ever kiss my mother! Never, ever!” She then turned on Catelyn with an almost equal fury. “And don’t you let him! You only let Daddy kiss you!”

“Arya Stark!” Ned’s voice was steel, and Arya’s eyes snapped to his immediately. “You will apologize to your mother and your uncle immediately, young lady. And then I will have an explanation for this behavior.”

For a moment no one in the dining room spoke or moved. Even Rickon was still, although one look at his little face told Catelyn that he was about to cry at any moment. 

It was Arya who began crying first. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mom,” she said in a broken voice, but then she looked back at Ned. “But I won’t apologize to him. I won’t!” 

She then fled from the dining room without another word, and Rickon began wailing.

Catelyn picked him up, suppressing the desire to just burst into tears herself. 

“Cat? Are you all right?” Ned’s voice seemed far away.

“What has gotten into her, Ned?” she almost whispered, wondering if Ned could even hear her over Rickon’s wails. 

“Cat, give him to me,” Lya said, reaching for him. “You two need to go talk to her.”

Catelyn nodded and turned to her brother-in-law. “Brandon, I’m so sorry. I don’t . . .” 

“Cat, it’s not your fault. I don’t know what’s gotten into her head, but . . . it isn’t your fault,” Brandon insisted. He looked very pale.

“It isn’t your fault, either,” she told him as she let Lyanna take Rickon from her.

“Children . . . something has obviously upset Arya, and your mother and I are going to find out what it is. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

_Of course, they’re worried,_ Catelyn thought, looking at all the young faces. Arya had a temper. They all knew it. But she’d never acted like this. She tried to smile reassuringly at her children and her nephew, and then took Ned’s hand to go in search of Arya.

She had fled to her room, and they found her sitting on her bed with her arms curled around her knees.

“Arya,” Catelyn said softly. 

“I won’t apologize to him,” Arya said quietly. “He’s the one who’s wrong, not me.”

Ned started to say something, but Catelyn put a hand on his arm. Her words had made him angry, and anger isn’t what Arya needed right now.

“Arya, what has your uncle done to make you angry?”

“Cat . . .”

“Something has made her angry, my love. She isn’t cruel for no reason. We need to hear her reason.”

Arya sat silently, tucked into a ball. “Arya,” Catelyn spoke again. “You were angry with me, too, weren’t you? What have I done to make you angry?”

“He shouldn’t kiss you,” Arya muttered.

“Why not?” Catelyn asked softly. When she didn’t respond, Catelyn sat down beside her and pulled her to lean into her side, and Arya didn’t pull away. “You’ve seen your uncle, all of your uncles, give me kisses and hugs before. Family members care for one another. Why are you upset about my getting kisses from your uncles now?”

“I don’t care if Uncle Ed kisses you. He’s your brother,” Arya muttered. 

“And Uncle Brandon and Uncle Benjen are your father’s brothers, sweetling. After all these years, they’ve become brothers to me, too, so . . .”

“No!” Arya insisted. “Uncle Ben, maybe. But not . . . him.”

“Arya,” Ned said, unable to remain silent any longer. “Your uncle loves you very much. You’ve hurt his feelings terribly with your behavior today.”

“I don’t care.” She looked up at her father. “And you shouldn’t care about his feelings, either. I heard Robb tell Jon you nearly punched Mr. Baelish just because he always looks like he wants to kiss Mom. So why don’t you care that Uncle Brandon did kiss her?”

Ned looked at her uncomprehendingly as she looked to him for answers, both pairs of grey eyes looking a bit lost and confused by the entire situation. Catelyn, however, feared she had begun to understand.

“Arya, when I caught you up in the attic the other day, you told me you were exploring.”

“I was.” Catelyn didn’t miss the flash of guilt in her eyes.”

“And what did you find when you were exploring?”

Arya bit her lip.

“I’m not angry, sweetling, but I need to know what you found so that your father and I can answer your questions.”

Arya took a deep breath and then pulled away to climb off the bed and crouch down to pull something from beneath it. Catelyn wasn’t surprised to see her scrapbook from her freshman year in college in her daughter’s hands. 

“Oh, Arya! Why didn’t you come ask me about this?”

“I didn’t want to make you mad,” Arya said in a small voice.

“Well,” Catelyn said. “You shouldn’t go through other people’s things, and I would have told you that. I’ll say it now. But any time you find something that upsets or worries you, you must bring it to me. Or to your father.”

Arya’s eyes got big. “I could never show Daddy this!”

Catelyn smiled at her. “But he’s seen it, love. Probably a thousand times. There are pictures of him in here, too, you know. Did you see those?”

Arya shook her head. “Only of you. And him—Uncle Brandon.”

“She’s found our old college stuff,” Ned said as understanding dawned.

“My old college stuff, anyway.” She took the scrapbook from Arya’s hands and held it up for him. “You remember my scrapbooks. This is freshman year.” 

“When you were dating Brandon.” He shook his head. “Arya that was a long time ago, sweet girl. None of that means anything at all.”

“They’re in all these pictures together—with little hearts around them. And they’re all smiley. And there’s picture of dancing and even . . .” She bit her lip.

“Kissing?” her father asked gently, and Arya nodded.

“Arya, when I went away to college, I didn’t know your father. I met your Uncle Brandon the first week I was there, and he was so very much fun to be around. You know that for yourself. And he asked me out on a date. We had fun so we kept going on dates through all of that year.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Arya demanded, looking at Ned.

“Because I didn’t know your mother, and it was none of my business who my brother dated.”

“But you love her!” Arya insisted with all the righteous indignation only the truly innocent can possess.

“Of course, I do. I love her with all my heart. But she was my brother’s girlfriend when we met, and . . .”

“You told him never to kiss her again, right?” Arya demanded.

“Well, no. That wouldn’t have been . . .”

“I don’t understand! Robb says you threw Mr. Baelish out of Mom’s office because he wanted to kiss her on the face so if Uncle Brandon wants to kiss Mom on the face, why don’t you throw him out?” 

“It’s not the same thing, Arya. It’s . . . why the hell is Robb talking to you about Baelish anyway? How does he even . . .”

“Ned,” Catelyn said urgently. Her husband was getting frustrated, and any mention of Petyr Baelish’s name was guaranteed to make him angry. “She’s eight years old. She doesn’t understand.” She reached for her daughter and pulled her into her lap. “It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?” she asked her softly. “A time when your father and I didn’t love each other. When we didn’t even know each other?” She kissed the top of Arya’s hair. “It feels to me like I’ve always loved him. I know I always will, so it seems like I always have. But once I was little girl just like you.”

“Just like Sansa,” Arya insisted.

“No,” Catelyn said firmly. “I looked more Sansa when I was a little girl. And I liked to sing all the time like Sansa does.”

“You still do that.”

Catelyn laughed. “I suppose I do. But I also liked to ride my bike as fast as I could, and jump it over ramps. Sansa hates that sort of thing.”

“I don’t.”

“I know. You are my daughter, Arya. And once I was young like you. I wasn’t exactly like you or exactly like Sansa, although I was a bit like each of you. I was me. I wasn’t anyone’s wife or anyone’s mother, and I sometimes got terribly angry at my own parents and thought they were unfair. And I sometimes got worried about things but was afraid to ask anyone about them. It’s hard to remember that little girl now because I’ve been a grown up lady for so long now. But she was real. And she did some things I’m very proud of and some things I would never do now.”

“Like kiss Uncle Brandon?”

Catelyn smiled. “Oh, when I was eight years old, I never would have kissed any boy. Well, except your Uncle Edmure, but he was a baby so that doesn’t count. The only grown-up men I would kiss were in my family. Just like you.”

“But why did you kiss Uncle Brandon when you grew up?”

“Oh, sweetling, that’s a hard question to answer right now because when I was eight, I wouldn’t have understood it, either. I’ll do my best, though. And you can ask me about it again when you’re twelve and sixteen and eighteen, and I’ll answer again. I was eighteen when I met your Uncle Brandon. And being eighteen is sort of like being grown-up, but not being certain you understand exactly how to be grown up yet.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Arya protested. “You’re either a kid or a grown-up. Robb and Jon say you’re a grown-up when you turn eighteen.”

Catelyn decided she needed to have a serious talk with her oldest son and nephew about the information they were giving her daughter. “You’re just going to have to trust me that it isn’t that simple, love. You’ll understand when you get there, and you don’t have to understand it now.”

Arya shrugged.

“Anyway, you can definitely fall in love at eighteen. Or even younger. Although I never had. Brandon was my first real boyfriend. And he made me smile, and I liked to hold his hand and yes, I liked kissing him.”

“But you’re only supposed to do those things with Daddy,” Arya said in a very small voice.

“Yes, I am. But then, I hadn’t found the big love of my life yet, the person I wanted to spend forever with, and build my whole life with, and share children with. I couldn’t imagine doing any of those things when I was eighteen.”

“Not even with Uncle Brandon?” Arya asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“No. Not really.” She smiled. “I met your father while I was still dating your Uncle Brandon, but that’s not why I stopped dating him.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I didn’t love him with the kind of love that keeps getting bigger all the time. Sometimes a love is sweet and wonderful and fun. But it doesn’t grow. And love that doesn’t grow doesn’t last. And it feels sad for a bit when that happens. But your uncle didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did I. We just went on to the next parts of our lives. And kept growing up more.”

“Even though you were already grown-ups.”

“Yes, Arya, even though, according to the infinite wisdom of your thirteen year old brother, we were both already grown-ups.”

Ned had been silent for a long time, allowing her to speak with Arya, but he chuckled a little at that. “Arya,” he said softly. “Let me tell you a secret. I don’t think you should ever stop growing up. Growing up is simply learning more about who you are and who you want to be and what path you choose to travel in life, and you can keep doing that for as long as you’re alive.”

Arya chewed on her lip a few moments. “But does that mean you and Mom could decide it’s time to grow up and go to another part of your life that’s not together? Like Mom and Uncle Brandon did?”

“No,” Catelyn and Ned said together.

“Arya, you are very right about one thing in all this,” Catelyn told her. “You know in your heart that your father and I love only each other and always will, don’t you? We love all of you, of course, and our brothers and sisters, but that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to hold anyone’s hand or kiss anyone on the face the way I do your father, and that’s going to be true forever because he and I do have the kind of love that just keeps growing forever.”

“And Uncle Brandon knows that?” Arya asked. “Because he’s not married to anybody. And he said Daddy didn’t deserve you.”

“He was teasing me, Arya,” Ned told her. “He’s my big brother. You know that Robb teases all of you. I don’t think big brothers can help themselves. But he would never really hurt me or your mother. I’m his brother, and your mother has become his sister. That’s the way he loves her now.”

“That’s weird,” Arya said, scrunching up her face.

“You aren’t the first person to say so,” Catelyn sighed, thinking back to the reactions of friends and family when she and Ned first started dating. “But weird or not, it’s true. And it doesn’t feel weird at all. To any of us. We all know who we are, and what we are to each other. And you never have to worry about any of it. And If you want to look at any old pictures from all the years before your father and I were married, you should look at them with us, and we’ll tell you all the funny stories about them, and we can laugh together.”

“And you’ll always love each other, right?”

“I can promise you that,” Ned told her solemnly. Catelyn smiled at his serious face and then at the smaller, more feminine yet incredibly similar face looking back at his. 

“We can both promise you that,” she agreed.

“I guess I really do need to apologize to Uncle Brandon, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Ned told her. “But when you explain why you were acting as you were, I don’t think he’ll be upset with you at all, Arya. He’ll understand.”

“Here,” Catelyn said, handing her the scrapbook. “Show him this. You won’t have to do much explaining that way.”

Arya gave both of them hugs and headed off, scrapbook in hand, to find her uncle.

Catelyn leaned into Ned’s arms. “That was . . . not a conversation I thought I’d be having today.”

“You were wonderful with her. Truly, Cat. You amaze me, my love.” 

She smiled at him and sighed. “I suppose we should have told them Brandon and I used to date. I just never . . .”

He laughed. “I don’t think anyone sits their young children down and lists all of their former loves, Catelyn. Maybe those discussions come up as they get older, but I haven’t given accounting to them of everyone I dated before you either.” 

“Well, you never dated my sister,” she laughed. “It is weird, to quote Arya. Everyone thought it was weird at the time, remember? I guess it’s only natural our children will, too.”

“I guess it’s time to go get the rest of the scrapbooks,” Ned said.

“What?” 

“All of the children were at dinner, Cat. I say we explain to all of them what got Arya confused, and then let them laugh at pictures with us as you suggested to her. But not only of the year you spent dating Brandon. But the rest of our college years. Let them see the beginnings of the story of us—which is really the beginning of their own story since our love made them.”

“All right,” she said. “But we need to go through those scrapbooks right now before we offer them up as holiday entertainment. Our children may not need to know everything about their parents’ younger days.”

“Our children don’t need to know everything about their parents’ current days, my love.” 

“No,” she said, smiling up at him. “They certainly don’t need to know what it does to me when you look at me like that.”

“You don’t think that knowledge would reassure Arya that our love is going strong?” he teased her as he pulled her more tightly against him, and began to press little kisses along her neck.

“Arya is eight years old!” she laughed. “And you shouldn’t be making me think about things I’d like you to do to me while we’re sitting on our eight year old’s bed.” Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. “Come on. We have some books to find in the attic.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Brandon couldn’t remember the last time he laughed as hard as he had tonight. It certainly hadn’t started out very funny. He hoped to never see his niece look at him like that again. Of course, once she’d shown him the scrapbook, he’d understood it well enough. He’d never met two people more protective of the people they love than Ned and Catelyn, and it seemed that Arya had gotten that trait in spades from both parents. God protect any poor fool who truly sought to harm a Stark on that child’s watch. 

She had asked him several times as they looked through the old pictures of his and Catelyn’s brief romance if he was sure he didn’t want “Mom to be your girlfriend anymore.” Oddly enough, she seemed most reassured when after telling her multiple times that he had no romantic designs on her mother, he told her it really wouldn’t matter anyway whether he or any other man alive wanted Catelyn or any woman wanted Ned. The two of them never looked at anyone but each other and never would. She’d nodded in satisfaction at that and had begun acting more like her normal self.

It had been interesting to watch the reactions of the other children (all save Rickon who’d been tucked into bed before the family discussion) when they learned about his history with Cat. Little Bran mostly just laughed hysterically at the pictures which likely seemed more some kind of weird playacting than actual past events to him. He was six years old. His version of reality was the only reality he cared about.

Robb and Sansa were a little bothered by it, he could tell. Sansa was fascinated by the idea of her mother as a college student going to dances and kissing boys, though, so she seemed better able than Robb to forget about the fact that the boy in the pictures was the uncle sitting across from them. Jon was largely unfazed, but given his own parents’ history which was alarmingly well known to family and strangers alike, “So my uncle once dated my aunt who’s been married to my other uncle all my life?” probably didn’t seem like a big deal.

The best part of the evening came about as Ned and Cat shared the rest of her college scrapbooks with them. Brandon had hazy recollections of a couple of the events documented and suspected that these books had been sanitized to remove photographic evidence of a few alcohol-induced escapades that he’d not want to share with his own kids if he had any so he just kept his mouth shut and smirked at his brother and sister-in-law to let them know he knew things. Catelyn’s blushes were priceless.

But the most amazing thing about those books was that you could see it. You could see Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully becoming ‘Ned and Cat’ before they even realized it was happening. Brandon had long considered himself a cynic about true love but you could look at the college kids in those photos and see the married parents of five sitting close together on the couch. You could look at the couple on the couch and see those kids looking at each other as if stars shone in their eyes. The scrapbook of him and Catelyn was cute and funny and made him smile to remember those days. The scrapbooks of her and Ned were the chronicle of a love story that made even a cynic believe.

He watched the faces of his brother’s children as they scrolled through the early history of their parents’ romance and while they laughed until they cried at hairstyles and fashion choices, their reaction to the love in those books was apparent to anyone. Regardless of how many times, Arya had proclaimed that his ever dating their mother was weird, Brandon knew that none of those kids was going to be really troubled by it after going through the rest of the books.

He was a cynic when it came to love, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy as hell that his quiet, unassuming brother had found the gold at the end of the rainbow. Ned—solid, steady, undramatic Ned—was the Stark who had a love story for the ages. Just the thought of it made Brandon smile.

After little Bran fell asleep on the couch and had to be carried to bed, Ned decreed that in the interest of his back, all other children must go to bed while they were still conscious enough to walk there. After a small amount of grumbling, they all acquiesced, and when Arya came to hug him good night, Brandon felt everything was good in his world again.

When she told him she was thinking of being a ninja for Halloween next year and asked if he wanted her to throw stars at Mr. Bolton, everything was perfect.


End file.
